Authors: Kimberly Kinrade
I clenched my
teeth. "My
father
would
want me to have what's mine… my Lord, or so I would believe. I am his heir, and
thus the heir to his seat on this court."
"He would
disagree with you, if he were here. You are a disgrace to his name."
His words
started a fire in my veins. "Do you presume to know my father's mind,
Tiberius? Was it not he, who taught you our ways, who supported you in joining
this court? I trust you simply misspoke."
The laughter
left his face, leaving no emotion. "Yes, thank you, Count Zorin. I only
meant to offer opinion on the matter. After so many years away from court, I do
not think you will enjoy it."
"That is
for me to decide."
Tiberius
raised a goblet to his purple lips and sipped. "Yes, but now is not the
time to decide anything. A trial is being bestowed." He gestured at Prince
Dante, who now stood on his feet, but had not spoken. The man grinned.
I rolled my
eyes and raised my hands at the balconies. "Now is the time. As my father's
heir, I qualify for election and ask to be trialed as well."
Whispers
filled the hall as members of the court debated with their attendants. Ezio
groaned behind me, and Tiberius raised his goblet, regaining silence. "You
have not yet been inducted into the Tribunal. To run for election would be
improper."
"I agree,"
said a voice, and then more echoed the call.
I grit my
teeth. The Tribunal followed tradition and rules like dogma, but perhaps their
hatred for me surpassed even
their
need for order.
Prince Dante
lifted his hand. "My Lords, as a member of this court, I say let him be
trialed."
"I agree
with the Lord of Sunrise." A man with golden curls, Antonio, tapped an
equally golden cup. He was Dante's brother, and his words slurred from drink. "Let
him be trialed, and let fate decide if he is worthy."
Other members
nodded their approval. They liked this Prince Dante, and so I hated him.
"So be
it." Tiberius stuck his cup against the balcony like a gavel. "Are
you ready to accept your trial, Andriy Zorin?"
I nodded and
thanked the fates for my luck.
"Then kneel."
I fell on one
knee, the sweat dripping off me.
"Show
your faith to this council and its people. Earn ascension and prove a king.
Will you accept judgment?"
"I will."
"Then
your trial shall be thus. A Grand Inquisitor is arriving in Venice tonight. His
mission, as we know it, is to eradicate the Unsired and Wingless within the
city. Rid us of him, and you shall have proven yourself worthy. Do you accept
your trial?"
My knees
wobbled, and I stared at Tiberius. "A Grand Inquisitor? This is suicide."
"This is
your trial. You may refuse. There is no dishonor in that."
"There is
no honor in this trial. One does not simply kill an Inquisitor."
"One
worthy to be High King will find a way." He grinned, no doubt to kindle my
rage. It worked.
"I accept
my trial. May the Inquisitor shudder in his sleep, for I will see him in his
grave." I stood.
Tiberius
nodded. "So be it. Now, venture forth and prove your worth."
I bowed and
walked away. No ceremonial claps followed me out the door, only Ezio grumbling
about Inquisitors and trials. He was right to complain. To kill an Inquisitor
and live would be impossible.
But Tiberius
never said kill.
Still, not
killing meant talking, and I preferred the former. As we rounded up the stairs,
the rage inside me boiled and with it hunger. I wished to blast the steam at
Tiberius, who doomed me with his trial, and Dante, who thought he could beat me
at this game. That's all it was, after all—a game to see who should be
king. And they dealt me a losing hand. I wanted to cut theirs off. If they'd
been there, I would have.
But instead,
the stone door opened, and a portly man gazed at me, draped in the white garbs
of a priest. "Who are you, my son?"
"The
devil, Father." I showed my face, and the old man dropped his scepter. He'd
caught me in a bad mood. More's the pity. Venice stank of the people that
populated it. One less person made it smell a little better.